


Mourning Prayer

by TheAzureFox



Category: Library of Ruina (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, The Index is a cult change my mind, ah yes this is now horribly outdated, but i will be making a new fanfic soon based off of newest update, he good tho, he really good, plz join me in appreciating him, short fanfic bc Yan's hard to write, speculative fanfic, tfw you love a character and are too impatient for his backstory to write him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAzureFox/pseuds/TheAzureFox
Summary: Maybe acting on his own wasn’t a good idea.Yan reflects on the aftermath of the Thumb fight.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Mourning Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I love Yan  
> Also me: How the fuck do I write him.

Maybe acting on his own wasn’t a good idea.

Yan stumbles through the remains of a building now abandoned, pushing his way through the place as he leans against concrete walls. There’s a metal-like smell that follows him, a rusty tang in his mouth as he winds his way through empty hallways. Red leaks from his skin, painting the hilt of his sword and staining the white of his cape. 

Bloody nicks eat into his flesh, hampering his movements, yet he still carries on. The scuffle he’s just had with the Thumb was merely an annoyance: he had thought he’d convinced him with his words, but he sees now that they are just the same as everyone else. 

Still, he couldn’t just sit by and watch. Once he’d caught wind of the Thumb’s exploits in obtaining a Library invitation, he knew he needed to act. Time was crucial - of the essence, even - and even though he’d arrived right before the Thumb had headed off, they had refused to heed his words.

“Why…” His voice slips from his throat as he eases forward, ignoring the pain in his muscles as he jumps over a fallen couch. “Why won’t anyone listen to me?”

There is pain in his words, noticeable and scratchy - an itch that claws more at his mind than it does his mouth. He curls his nails into the crumbling brick of the Thumb’s stronghold, feels wires poking out from broken concrete grabbing at the skin of his gloves. Yan hisses, feeling yet another wound open. He then crumples at the entrance of the second floor, leaning against a cold, gray wall.

The white-haired man pulls out a roll of bandages from underneath his cape, thankful that the fast-healing gauze hasn’t been stained with blood or torn to shreds. The roll in his hands is made of a special fiber, one spun from the Singularity of a certain Wing, and as he applies it to his skin, wrapping it around his wounds he feels its healing effects settle in, a sense of temporary euphoria filling him.

He bites his bottom lip, fighting off the numbing pleasure of something almost anesthetic as he takes in deep breaths. 

The fight with the Thumb was something he could handle, honestly, if he had wanted to take it seriously. But, _damn,_ he hadn’t been expected to be taken off-guard by the lackeys of the Thumb’s underboss, a bullet piercing him at a moment where he’d made himself vulnerable.

Once negotiations had done south, Yan had fully intended to flee from the compound, not to waste his time with a fight that would only end in an unfavorable outcome. Yet, he’d gotten caught in a fight with one of the capo’s men - Denis, if he recalls correctly - cornered into a fight and left to battle them until they all escaped into the Library’s domain.

It frustrates Yan.

He tries so hard, doesn’t he, to stop lives from being lost? And he tries so hard, doesn’t he, to stop the Index from gaining an upper hand?

It’s a cycle that’s never-ending in this hell of a city. People are born and when they are born they are made to live, only to die by the whims of someone else. It’s aggravating, how so many people toss away their lives, how so many people look for salvation only to lose their souls to the cruelness of the City.

Yan had been innocent, once. A naive youth, one full of hopes and dreams. He’d wanted to change the world, had wanted to create meaning in a world of terror and corruption. It was why he had joined the Index - not only for the Index’s protection, but for the chance at joining something greater.

How foolish he’d been. How utterly foolish. The world he’d been looking for in the Index - a world where organizations didn’t kill if you couldn’t pay enough money and the only means of protection came from reading a script - was an illusion, one cruel and alluring, like a dream. Yet, what was once a dream - a fleeting fantasy built off the weakness of one’s soul - has henceforth turned into a nightmare, one that Yan himself cannot escape from.

He’s soiled his hands with the blood of others so many times before, has watched as those around him have died to the tragedy of the Prescripts, screaming in agony and begging for salvation. As a Messenger, he’s had the displeasure of watching the delusion of the Index fall to pieces before him, watching as time and time again new members get suckered into its rankings and time and time again the most loyal of members slit their own throats over the words written on a single slip of paper.

The man has only made it this far because he’s useful. Of that, he’s certain. His strength in battle alongside his willingness to survive to carry out the Prescript’s orders has long since branded him a Messenger to-be. He’d been raised since his youth into being such a thing: had long since been groomed into a lieutenant of the Index, a member meant to spread its gospel and invite others in.

How he hates it. How he absolutely hates it. How he wants to cast everything aside, to burn everything to the ground and watch it smother in the ashes. But he doesn’t. Can’t. Because doing so means betraying the Index. And betraying the Index means losing the one home he has left to go home to.

So he tries. Really, he does. When the Prescripts are not commanding his absolute obedience, he wiggles around, offering his guidance to those who need it. The Prescripts may be cruel and vindictive - strange little things that control the destiny of everyone around him - but their vagueness is a blessing, one Yan can use to keep people in line. After all, he’s tired of seeing people die: tired of seeing them get hurt again and again just because they are told to do so.

The Index was supposed to give people freedom. Obey the words given by a unknown god and then you can do whatever you wish, so long as you prove your faith again and again. It’s a bargain at first, especially in a world where money is crucial, but as Yan watches over the Proxys, watching the way they tear the hearts out of every 8 year old child or smash in the heads of every person in an apartment building, he finds that bargain a cruel temptation.

Yan takes in another breath, the numbing anaesthetic of the bandages finally seeping away. He unpeels his bandages, their power now vanished, and absent-mindedly traces his gaze over the flesh of his skin - bloodless and in-tact, as if he had not been shot and stabbed by bayonet rifles only moments before.

He eases himself to his feet, expecting to feel the harshness of pain in his body and finding only the fatigue of his muscles to greet him. It’s a good sign: the bandages have done a good job at washing away all his more irritating wounds. 

The man steps down stone steps, his cloak fluttering behind him as he makes it the first floor of the Thumb’s stronghold in L. Corp territory. He steps forward, the bodies of those left unconscious by his sword still lying at his feet as he moves past them.

In order to have gotten to the underboss of this region, he’d had to knock a lot of people unconscious in order to have his chat. Doing so had been a little costly - Yan had arrived almost too late to start a discussion with the Capo, not that it really mattered.

Just as the Index was obedient to the orders from above, so too was the Thumb. Only, unlike the victims of the Prescripts, the Thumb were stubborn in their death wishes, so eager to rush to battle on thoughts of victory that they had forsaken any shred of thought beforehand. 

Yet, Yan’s warnings were not truly unfounded. The lady with purple hair had grown worried at his warnings, seemingly thinking his words the truth. He’d appreciated her brief moment of thought, had even thought to capitalize it to dissuade the Thumb from continuing onwards, when Denis had barreled after him and the rest had soon followed.

Negotiations had ended and so too did Yan’s hopes at preventing even more lives from being lost in the fight for L. Corp. 

It makes him want to give up, honestly. Every time he reaches for those around him, trying to protect them with his words, he loses them time and time again, watching as they fall before him, corpses at the ready. 

It’s sickening and it’s tragic. And yet...and yet every time Yan reaches for those around him, tries hard to cling onto his humanity, on the hopes and dreams that had led him to the Index, he finds the rug taken out from under him, reminding him of how foolish he truly is.

But that hasn’t stopped Yan. It should’ve, long ago. But he’s prideful in that way, arrogant and desperate - a child reaching for a hope that’s never-ending. He reaches for possibilities, grabbing hold of them whenever possible, ensuring his path to save the lives of those around him, even if it means going to his enemies to do so.

And...ah...where had that gotten him? The Thumb is cracking apart at the seams. The Index is sending people to their deaths left and right. And now that the underboss gone to the Library, Yan expects it won’t be long before another patrol of proselytes is sent the Library’s way, guided by the mysterious invitations that appear without warning.

He makes it to the entrance of the stronghold, pushing past the broken door to emerge outside. A battlefield of red awaits him - marked by corpses of both the Thumb and the Index from a skirmish that had taken place minutes before Yan had decided to storm the stronghold on his own.

He imagines the Index has vanished by now, called away by some Prescript where the familia of Gloria and Hubert - the two Proxys that had been fighting here only moments before - would be sent to wage yet more war. It was a common occurrence in Nest wars like these - the Index would rampage endlessly, guided by their faith in the Prescripts, until they’d severed their own heads on their enemy’s blades and died only with the regrets of being unable to fulfill the purpose they’d been sent to finish.

As Yan walks past white capes fluttering in the wind, noticing the metal of gold collars and various accessories, he can’t help but utter apologies with every step he takes. The words come without warning - spilling from his lips like a chant, rushed and hurried, gurgling from the wellspring of his heart as he says, over and over: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_.”

The spirits of the dead, the souls of those lost so senselessly to battle, watch him from eyes devoid of shine and bodies no longer moving. Yan utters his prayers to them, expressing his regrets in the only way he can: through words begging for forgiveness.

**Author's Note:**

> (idk if this feels unfinished but this was the best way i could think of ending this without going on a tangent w/ a character we haven't met yet gfjhfghj)
> 
> anyways I have,,, been watching a lot of videos on cults recently (mostly out of curiosity for how they manage to rope ordinary people into their brainwashing),,, and in doing so I've realized the Index is essentially a cult lmao. It worships a certain "god" (namely, the Prescripts), lures in people constantly to join them, has rituals to obey (such as fulfilling the Prescripts), and has a hierarchy where the higher-ups basically enforce the word of "god" (a la the Proxys and Messengers). 
> 
> Realizing this, I kind of wonder how deep Yan's character goes as someone who is both a part of a cult as well as helpless to stop its practices despite being in a position of power. He seems like such a kind and strong boi who wants to keep people from dying in whatever way possible (by potentially killing the Carnvial on a false Prescript, by telling Lala how to avoid the cruelty of her neighbor unknowingly swallowing a needle, by warning John away from the Index and by telling the Thumb off from killing themselves at the Library) and seeing as he's failing at protecting people I thought it'd be a fun internal struggle to try (keyword: try) and capitalize on for a short moment since it's hard to write Yan without knowing the full extent of his depth quite yet


End file.
